Seven Scattered Scrolls
by Raksha The Demon
Summary: A collection of drabbles and ficlets from various viewpoints, describing moments in the life of Faramir, twenty-seventh Steward of Gondor (bookverse). Some words and phrases in the third chapter's text are taken from THE TWO TOWERS. Complete.
1. Taking The Journey

A collection of drabbles and ficlets from various viewpoints, describing moments of anxiety, sorrow, temptation, joy, and contentment in the life of the twenty-seventh Steward of Gondor. Some words and phrases in the third chapter's text are taken from THE TWO TOWERS (The Window On The West). Most chapters originated on the HASA Birthday Cards Forum. Chapter Two is co-written by Tanaqui. Much thanks to LadyBranwyn for expert beta guidance.

This story is a work of fanfiction, written for purposes of entertainment and not for profit. All the characters belong to the heirs of J.R.R. Tolkien.

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**I. Taking The Journey**

I mount my horse, ready to begin the journey that might change our fortunes in this war. Yet I crave one last look at what I leave behind: the White City of my sires. The Tower of Guard shines in the sun, more beautiful than any elven-city could be, for it is my home.

I bid farewell to my father an hour ago, took his whispered blessing and his kiss upon my brow as I bent my knee to him. I think of all that could be lost…

The Great Gate opens. Another horse comes, the rider spurring first to a trot, then a brisk canter. He catches up to me, long dark hair barely combed and his face pale: Faramir.

My brother holds out his hand, to show what I had forgotten. "Here is your war-horn," he says. "O, Boromir, forget us not when you walk with the Elf-lords in the halls of Imladris!"

"I will remember you to my last breath, brother mine." I reassure him.

We embrace. I see that my younger brother sorrows; we have never been parted by such a long and uncertain errand. But I will let no uncertainty cloud my heart, nor our farewell.

I put the horn to my lips and blow a mighty call. It cries a warning to Gondor's foes that I set forth to fight them.

And I gaze again on Minas Tirith. Faramir prompts his horse to rear up high and waves me a last salute, standing in the stirrups and leaning forward, gripping the big mare easily with his knees. I laugh in joy and pride; for it was I who taught him that maneuver when we were both much younger.

I wave back at my brother and my city, then turn and ride away from home.


	2. Boromir's Return

**II. Boromir's Return**

Faramir was alone.

He could not sleep. He could barely bring himself to try. Three days ago, he had heard the faint but clear sound of his brother's horn. Their father, standing on the walls beside him, also heard the Horn of Gondor's distinctive call. They shared the revelation with uncharacteristic emotion. Then the Steward turned and went away from his son.

Tonight, sitting watch by Anduin, Faramir had seen the completion of the horn's fell omen. A boat floated slowly by, carrying Boromir's corpse.

Alone in the darkness, Faramir could neither weep nor sleep. Would the light ever return?


	3. Showing Quality

**III. Showing Quality**

Fortune favors me this night! The foreseen Halfling stands here, in the wild, where a host of loyal men await my call. Neither the Ring-bearer nor his servant could stop me from taking this mighty weapon. They are too weary, too weak, too small. It would be a kindness to take such a woeful burden from the little halfling's frail shoulders.

I would bear it as a gift to my father. O, to see the look of pride he would bestow on me! His spirit, now saddened by my brother's loss, would rise. Armed with Denethor's wisdom and the Ring of Rings, we could surely drive out our foes, cast down Sauron and all his works!

Father shall love me as he loved Boromir; for I will save our realm. I shall reclaim Umbar and all else that we have lost. I will make Gondor the unchallenged queen over all lands East of the Sea, glorious in power and wisdom and commerce. The Haradrim who now assail Ithilien shall bring us tribute on their knees. I will construct great libraries and colleges. I will become a renowned lore-master such as Mithrandir…

Ah, Mithrandir. He fell. All the Rings of Power cannot bring him back, or Boromir. The Grey Pilgrim perished so that Frodo son of Drogo could escape death and complete his errand. And Boromir fell prey to the lure of this thing, this Isildur's Bane. So said the halflings; and I know that they spoke truly.

This Ring does not belong in the hands of Men. My poor brother, it was too sore a trial for even your hardihood. I shall help the halflings, not hinder them. And I will spare my father the temptation that touched both his sons, and remain, as he has called me, a wizard's pupil.


	4. Tell Me Why

**IV. Tell Me Why**

"Mithrandir, tell me why…."

"I want to know! Tell me why the sky is blue over our City this day, but grey and red in the East."

"Tell me why the King left us."

"But why there are seven stars and seven stones and not six of each?"

"Tell me why Quenya is hardly spoken any more..."

There never was such a lad for questions as my young friend Faramir. He was one of the few Men who feared me not, even as a small child; and I enjoyed filling his questing mind with what knowledge I was permitted to share.

But later, I could not give him the clear knowledge he craved, when Faramir entreated me sorrowfully: "Mithrandir, I do not understand. Tell me why my father tried to kill me."

I gave the best answer I could, that his father would have taken Faramir with him out of love as well as despair. I watched Faramir struggle to comprehend the incomprehensible, and the desolation in his eyes change to weary acceptance. He had learned crueler lessons than mine, including the sad truth that the heart and mind can hold greater mysteries than all the lore of fallen Númenor.


	5. The Deep Breath Before The Plunge

**V. The Deep Breath Before The Plunge**

We wait, long moments stretching into the evening's darkness. I had never thought I would live long enough to stand here now. The greatest challenge in all of my days looms before me. And there is no father or brother or mother left to give counsel. Mithrandir himself could not guide me in this fearsome endeavor. As I ponder what lies ahead, I am assailed by sudden doubt.

My mouth goes dry as the door to the hall opens. Eomer brings forth his sister, the White Lady of Rohan; who has come to wed me this night. I fear that I will stutter through our vows. I fear I will not merit the trust with which she gives herself to me.

But then I look upon her. I have always thought her fair, but tonight Eowyn shines brighter than all the candles and torches in the Golden Hall. My doubts melt away in her glow; and I burn for her.

Eomer leads her to me and places Eowyn's hand in mine. She raises her fearless eyes as we clasp hands. I cannot help but smile at her. All will be well. With a steadying breath, I begin my vows.


	6. The Bower

**VI. The Bower**

I awaken slowly, my body tired and aching and - not alone! There is a man in my bed, his arm wound tight around me, pinning me against him. I freeze in terror at the sight of his dark hair. It cannot be Grima; he is gone, he is dead.

Then I remember, and see more clearly in the dawn's pale light. The man is my husband. My lord. My Faramir. We lie in my bed, in my flower-bedecked bower in the Golden Hall, on the morning after our wedding. I remember how he took me in his arms when at last we were left alone here.

I had never thought to find such joy in giving my body to a man. I had never thought to lie worn but happy in his arms as he caressed me, murmuring my name. I fear almost that I dream, that I will wake again to find my bower dark and chill, while Grima stalks outside my door. I cannot help but shudder at the memory of being pent, a prize for men to covet and use.

Faramir awakens, feeling my unease in the sudden coldness of my skin. He draws the coverlets up around my bare shoulders, and pulls me close again. I look at his face. Even half-sleeping, his raven hair tousled on the white pillow, Faramir is pleasing to my eyes; his features proud and noble. And I see for the first time how long his eyelashes are, how dark. I reach out to touch them.

He seizes my finger lightly, then holds it against his mouth. I am willingly caught, but I can catch too! I kiss the warm flesh below Faramir's neck, moving my mouth upward, and run my hands down his body. I sense the power there, the clean lines of shoulders and chest and the wondrous strength of his thighs. It is all mine to command, mine to love. My husband stirs. A deep sound, like a great cat purring, swells in his throat under my lips; then turns to a low chuckle.

He shifts and kisses me. I lift my mouth to his, answering without words. We separate briefly, and I am warmed by the tenderness in Faramir's eyes as well as the shared heat of our bodies. For the first time in many years, my bower is truly a home instead of a cage.


	7. Water Sports

**VII. Water Sports**

Her tall, black-haired husband and their much smaller golden-haired son are sporting in the lake. Like his father, Elboron adores the water.

Father and son play like dolphins, darting through the sun-drenched waters. Eowyn nurses her daughter. The little girl gestures toward the lake, babbling happily. Eowyn knows she has another swimmer in the family.

Later, their nursemaid takes both children home. Eowyn's heart melts anew as Faramir rises from the lake, his tanned skin wet and glistening. He answers her smile and extends his hand. Eowyn sheds her garments and goes to him. The placid waters await their embrace.


End file.
